LATE-NIGHT TENSION

ZAYDEN 

I pulled her into the room, shutting the door behind us with a quiet but firm click. The air between us was thick, charged with something dangerous. Scarlett’s eyes flickered with shock, then wariness, as if she was preparing for another battle.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice sharp, her chin lifting in defiance.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. Her back hit the edge of the desk, her hands bracing against the wood as she stared up at me, waiting.

“That kiss,” I said, my voice low. “What the hell was that?”

Scarlett let out a scoff, shaking her head. “You tell me, Zayden. You’re the one who kissed me first.”

“That’s not what I asked.” My voice came out harsher than I intended, but I didn’t care. I needed answers. I needed to understand why she did it, why she pushed me to the edge only to act as if nothing happened.

She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “And what if I say I did it on purpose? What if I wanted to see how much control you really have?”

My jaw tightened. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Scarlett.”

Her lips curved into a smirk, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “And you’re a coward, Zayden.”

I stiffened, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “What?”

“You heard me.” She pushed off the desk, stepping closer, her voice laced with something sharp and cutting. “You forced me to marry Vincent when you damn well knew you didn’t want that. Instead of admitting how you feel, you hid behind your pride. That’s what cowards do.”

My breath came heavier, my chest rising and falling as anger and something else—something deeper—clawed at me. “Don’t push me, Scarlett.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Or what? You’ll pretend I don’t exist? You’ll act like that kiss was nothing? Like I’m nothing?”

Her words struck something in me. Something raw. I hated how easily she could do that, how effortlessly she could cut through my walls.

I took another step closer, my face inches from hers. “You think this is a joke? That I wanted this?” My voice dropped lower, almost a growl. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

She didn’t back down. “Then tell me, Zayden. Tell me what you’re so afraid of.”

Silence stretched between us. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. For a second, just a second, I wanted to tell her. I wanted to rip open every buried emotion, let her see the mess she had made of me.

But I couldn’t.

Instead, I did what I always did—I shut down.

With a sharp breath, I stepped back. “This conversation is over.”

Scarlett’s expression flickered, something like hurt flashing across her eyes before she masked it with anger. “Of course it is.”

I turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me. The second I was alone, I let out a breath, pressing my hands against the cool walls of the hallway. My pulse was erratic, my mind spinning.

Damn her. Damn her for getting under my skin.

I needed a drink.

---

The study was dimly lit when I walked in, the glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows along the mahogany walls. I poured myself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling as I brought it to my lips. The burn did nothing to calm the storm inside me.

I leaned back in the leather chair, rubbing a hand over my face. But no matter how hard I tried to push her out of my mind, she was there. Scarlett. Her voice, her lips, the way she looked at me like she could see through every damn barrier I built.

I exhaled sharply, setting the glass down harder than necessary. This had to stop.

A vibration from my phone pulled me from my thoughts.

I reached for it, unlocking the screen. A message.

From Scarlett.

I frowned, opening it. The second I saw the image, my breath hitched.

She was in a nightgown.

Silk. Light. Barely covering anything.

The caption beneath it made my grip tighten around the phone.

“Sweet dreams.”

My jaw clenched. Heat surged through my veins, a dangerous mix of frustration and something darker.

I could still hear her voice from earlier, the taunt in her words, the way she pushed me, dared me.

My grip tightened around the glass.

Damn it, Scarlett.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to confront her or kiss her senseless.

I didn’t sleep that night.

Scarlett’s image haunted me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. Her smirk. Her challenge. The way her body fit against mine when I pulled her close.

Morning came too soon. The sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden hue over my room. But I felt anything but light.

I took a cold shower, hoping to shake the thoughts from my mind. It didn’t work.

By the time I stepped downstairs, Scarlett was already there, sitting at the dining table. She looked up as I entered, her expression unreadable.

Vincent sat beside her, completely oblivious to the tension crackling between us. He was rambling about something, smiling as he buttered his toast.

Scarlett, on the other hand, didn’t smile. She just watched me.

And I watched her back.

Every move. Every breath. Every unspoken word.

Vincent finally noticed my presence. “Morning, Dad.”

I gave him a nod, forcing my gaze away from Scarlett. “Morning.”

Scarlett sipped her coffee, her lips curling slightly as if she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

Damn her.

I sat across from them, but the moment I picked up my fork, she spoke.

“Did you sleep well, Zayden?”

My grip tightened. I glanced up, meeting her gaze. There it was again—that challenge.

I held her stare, my voice steady. “Like a baby.”

Her lips parted slightly, just enough for me to know she caught the lie.

Vincent, completely unaware, chuckled. “That’s good. We have a long day ahead.”

Scarlett didn’t look away. Neither did I.

The air between us grew heavier, the tension thickening.

Then, suddenly, Scarlett’s expression changed.

Her eyes widened, her body stiffened.

I frowned. “What?”